


Just A Touch

by AndreaDTX



Series: What's Your Fantasy? [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Kissing, M/M, Massage, Prostate Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 23:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13751082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaDTX/pseuds/AndreaDTX
Summary: In an uber-macho profession like hunting, it's easy to go days, weeks or even months without really taking the time to pay attention to physical or mental health. Dean struggles to acknowledge that beneath his gruff hunter exterior is a touchy-feely cuddler. Luckily, being thrown into a couple of walls gives him the perfect excuse to ask for what he really needs.SERIES NOTE: Lightly connected chapters, but each chapter can be read as a STAND-ALONE





	Just A Touch

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This originally had a different name, but it made me cringe every time I saw it, so I changed it.
> 
> I was actually writing another story that I've been working on for about a month and this one took over. Let me know what you think. Comments and Kudos let me know you care!

“I think I need a massage.”

Sam looked up from his ever-present book, his eyebrows already lowering into a frown. “A massage?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. It's my turn. That’s my fantasy. You giving me a full body massage.”

They’d had an ongoing game of ‘Wouldn’t it be hot if’ going for the last few months. Usually, they tended to try to out kink each other, letting their lizard brains run wild, but there was nothing in the rules that said they couldn’t request something more mundane for themselves. And if Dean had ever wanted plain vanilla more than now, he couldn't remember it. They'd had a rough couple of days, hunting a pair of Okamis. Bobby's notes had been incomplete and they hadn't realized the okamis needed to be stabbed _seven_ times. Dean had been thrown into more than one wall while Sam snuck blitz attacks with the knife, and the muscles in his back were killing him. No matter how he pressed and contorted, he couldn't get the muscles to relax. He really needed this. But somehow it felt weird to just ask Sam flat out. He was totally willing to blow a turn if it made his back feel better.

Sam eyed him for a moment, like maybe he was looking for a catch or something, before nodding. “Ok. Cool. Do you wanna do it now or—”

“How about you set up in my room while I take a shower?” The heat would start the job of loosening the muscles and Sam could finish it.

“Alright. Meet you there.”

Dean spent about thirty minutes in the shower. Usually, a shower that long meant he and his right hand were getting friendly, but today he spent the first minute cursorily soaping and rinsing his body and the other twenty-nine or so standing with his back to the shower head, letting the hot water sluice down his back. By the time he shut off the water, he felt moderately better. He didn’t bother dressing since he’d never needed clothes for any of their other fantasies. Instead, he slung a towel low around his waist and headed down the hall to his room.

Sam was already there. He wore nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. Dean hummed in appreciation. Seeing Sam half-naked never got old.

Sam had turned the bed down so that the sheets and blankets were tucked neatly at the foot of the bed. Dean’s eyes wandered over to his night stand where Sam had put a small box. He was curious but decided to let it be a surprise, since Sam probably wouldn’t tell him anyway.

“Where do you want me?”

“Head at the foot of the bed, on your stomach.”

Dean climbed on, clamping down viciously on the groan that tried to escape when his back tweaked as he set his knee on the bed. He glanced at his brother, but if Sam heard it, he didn’t say anything. Dean settled down, shifting until he was comfortable, and closed his eyes.

The familiar snick of a bottle cap being flicked open made him peek again.

“Massage oil,” Sam said, waggling the bottle.

“Do I wanna know why you have massage oil at the ready?”

“I don’t know. Can your old man heart handle my deep, dark secret that sometimes my muscles hurt so I massage them?”

“You kinky bastard.”

“I know, right?” Sam straddled Dean, but thankfully didn’t settle his weight on Dean’s back, instead settling on the backs of Dean’s thighs. The position put Sam’s soft cock directly against the underside of Dean’s ass, but Dean couldn’t even think about that as Sam’s large, warm hands landed on his upper back and started working.

Despite Dean requesting this as a fantasy, it was a legitimate deep tissue massage, like Sam really did his homework while Dean was in the shower. God bless nerds. Dean groaned as Sam’s strong fingers kneaded the muscles in his upper back, the ones that were always tight because he’d been overcompensating for the injured ones lower down.

Sam slowly worked his way down Dean’s spine, kneading and rubbing until the muscles lost their tenseness and the whole thing started to feel like the best idea Dean’s ever had. But when his hands landed firm at the base of Dean’s spine, Dean couldn’t hold back a pained hiss. He was particularly sensitive there at the best time and the muscles had been working double time for days trying to make up for strength capacity loss to injury. Dean expected Sam to bitch him out, surely realizing that Dean had been hiding an injury, but Sam said nothing, continuing to work in silence, although his touch lightened just a bit. Even with the softer touch, Dean had to take deep breaths and make himself relax into the touch, but Sam kept at it until the kinks in the muscle released and Dean gave an embarrassing groan of relief.

Sam seemed to be following Dean’s lead and when Dean’s whole demeanor changed into one of utter relaxation, Sam followed him. He massaged a little bit longer but it was a lighter, more sensual touch. His touched trailed downward, snagged the hem of Dean’s towel and pulled it open, so it lay flat on the bed, no longer covering Dean. With a slight shuffle, he situated himself between the bow of Dean’s legs, pushing Dean’s legs just a bit further apart to allow Sam to kneel in between. The width of Sam’s legs, spread Dean just enough for him to be keenly aware of it, but not enough for Dean to decide if this was a blatant move on Sam’s part, particularly when Sam went back to his efficient, but extremely thorough masseuse routine.

Sam massaged his glutes. “Man. You’re tight here.”

Dean laughed and after a scant second’s pause Sam followed. “You know what I mean.”

Dean hummed as Sam continued kneading, each stroke slightly separating his cheeks, just enough that he got a tantalizing trail of air across his hole with each rotation. He tried to remain still but couldn’t hold back ridiculously gratifying roll of his hips as his cock started to get the message that there might be something more than pain relief to this.

Sam hummed and moved on to his quads, then down to his calves.

“Roll over,” he asked softly, shifting from between Dean’s thighs to stand beside the bed.

Dean grunted out a laugh. “Seriously? This massage better have a _really_ happy ending.”

“Maybe. If you play your cards right. Now roll over.”

Dean sighed and rolled. “Happy?”

Sam leaned down and gave him a soft a kiss, a perfect meeting of lips, before pulling back to grin. “Not as happy as you.”

“Fucker,” Dean grumbled, which turned into a groan when Sam climbed back on top of him and began massaging his chest. Sam’s weight pressing down on his cock combined with his rough calloused hands swiping his pectorals to provide the perfect friction across his hardened nipples quickly had Dean thrusting up seeking the extra bit of stimulation he was lacking.

“Slow down,” Sam murmured and shifted down, taking the pressure off of Dean literally, settling his weight on Dean’s thighs. He took Dean’s left arm, pressing and squeezing the muscles in the forearm and working down to the palm. He pressed down hard enough that the fingers twitched and moved in reflex rather than at Dean’s command. It was a little weird to look at but felt amazing. It felt even better when Sam began to work each finger, his hand encapsulating each digit individually in a motion that looked more than a little suggestive.

It was no longer a suggestion when Sam lifted Dean’s hand up to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the middle finger. The sudden warmth got an immediate reaction out Dean, made all the stronger when Sam began to suck, humming in approval of something that probably made sense to him. Dean couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out what it was.

“Sam,” he moaned, sliding his free hand up Sam’s thigh to cup his hip, trying to urge his little brother to shift forward and give him something to grind against.

Sam grinned mischievously, lips wrapped around Dean’s finger, and pushed Dean’s hand back to the bed before continuing to massage the hand he’d been working on, the strength of his sucking increasing.

By the time Sam relented, he’d sucked everyone of Dean’s fingers on both hands and Dean was breathing like he’d been on a hard run. Sam carefully settled Dean’s hands on the bed and slid down Dean’s body, pointedly ignoring Dean’s throbbing cock to massage at Dean’s quads, his calves, down to his feet.

Dean groaned for a whole other reason as Sam’s worked the soles of his feet and his toes, cracking each one in turn. Sam smirked in a way that made Dean a little apprehensive. He curled his toes and felt his legs tightening. His toes were far too sensitive for the treatment his fingers had received.

“Don’t worry. I’m just massaging. Kick me in the face on reflex once, shame on you. Kick me in the face on reflex twice, shame on me.”

It took him a moment to decide Sam could be trusted, a life time of prank wars were hard to ignore. But Sam seemed to be on his best behavior so Dean relaxed back into the touch. Sam worked silently and efficiently, kneading and rubbing until Dean was nearly rubbery with relief. He sometimes forgot how hard he was on his feet.

Sam’s ministrations came to end with a kiss to the top of each foot, an oddly sweet and rare gesture. Sam rose on his haunches and ran a hand back up Dean’s leg, this time taking Dean’s knee with him, pinning it to the side. The position left him open and exposed. His cock, which had gone droopy and drowsy during the foot massage, instantly started to perk back up. He grunted and looked up at Sam.

“Groin, abductor, and hip flexor,” Sam said softly. And he genuinely seemed to be focused on those muscles. Not that it mattered. As far as Dean's body was concerned, close touch was close touch was close touch and there was no convincing it otherwise.

Professional as Sam was pretending to be, when he finished the one leg, he conspicuously didn’t move it back down, instead pressing the knee to the bed in a silent request to keep it there as he pulled the other leg up to match it, spreading Dean completely open. Dean shivered and whimpered, his cock jumping with the naughty thrill of the position.

Sam shushed him gently and worked the same muscles on that side, the warmth of his hands gliding up and down Dean’s thigh, running, from the crease of his groin to his knee over and over, the move simultaneously soothing and arousing. By the time he was done, Dean was nearly gasping for air, barely able to keep his hips from thrusting.

Sam smiled and rubbed an oil-slick hand across Dean’s stomach, pulling a whimpered grunt from Dean. Dean watched, wide-eyed, as Sam reached over to the night stand and reached into his little box, but instead of grabbing the bottle of oil, this time he picked up a smaller bottle of lube.

“I’m almost done, but there’s one more place I’d like to massage if that’s okay with you.”

Dean nodded so quickly he probably looked like a broken bobble head.

Sam slicked his finger and slipped it down between Dean’s legs. Dean held his breath, expecting him to dive right in, but instead Sam rubbed, his fingers gliding over the surface of Dean’s hole, over and over again, the friction light and teasing until Dean couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Sam, c’mon, do it already.”

Sam’s fingers stilled and he looked at Dean for a moment before leaning in to kiss him. His tongue slid into Dean’s mouth at the same time his finger slid into Dean’s body.

Dean groaned as Sam licked into his mouth, bit softly at his lips. The kiss kept going as Sam’s finger withdrew and returned with a second, pulling an even deeper groan from Dean. His hips jerked and he couldn’t help but cup Sam’s face in his hands. Sam generally wasn’t for soft kisses and long make out sessions. He would give it, sure, but Dean usually had to push for it. This slow, gentle pace was more Dean’s style and yet somehow Sam had figured it out and was letting him have it just the way he liked it.

They kissed and kissed, in no particular rush, Sam’s fingers inside Dean’s body, stretching, stroking, prodding. The kiss finally broke when they both needed air. Dean’s head was spinning and he moaned when he felt Sam’s fingers sliding out of his body.

“Is three okay?” Sam asked holding up three fingers.

Dean nodded and spread his legs a little wider.

Sam put a little more slick on his fingers before positioning them back at Dean’s opening and pulling Dean back into a kiss seconds before breaching his body.

Dean hissed into Sam’s mouth, straining against the stretch even as he welcomed it.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

Dean nodded frantically and pulled Sam's mouth back to his own. He lost himself in the sensation, in Sam’s lips, in the moment, until the tension became too much and he had to break the connection.

“Ah, Sam… _gonna_...”

Sam didn’t stop moving his fingers, their width and length perfect, touching Dean inside in all the right ways, the in and out, the pressure making Dean moan and writhe. “Go for it.”

With his free hand, Sam encouraged Dean to stroke himself, not that it took much to get Dean’s hand flying up and down his length, anything to relieve the unbearable, wonderful, painful, amazing tension.

“You look amazing. So hot. So fucked out, shaking, clenching around my fingers, touching yourself for me. Come on. Do it. Cum for me.”

Dean latched on to the dirty words, letting them sizzle through his system as his muscles ratcheted tighter and tighter until finally… it snapped.

He heard himself howl. His back arched even as his hips jerked, the pleasure nearly painfully sharp. He rode it for several long seconds, barely able to breathe, gasping for air, then sighing in relief as the spasms began to fade, his stroking hand slowing until he finally had to stop.

As he came back to himself, he realized he could still feel himself clenching around Sam’s fingers, which were still slowly, firmly pressing that sweet spot inside of him, sending slow, warm swells of pleasure rolling over him. He moaned, lying limply, simply accepting what Sam had to offer until even that soft, passive touch was too much.

“Mercy,” he slurred.

Sam’s fingers stilled and he slowly pulled out, pulling a soft whine out of Dean despite the care he took.

“Holy fuck that was hot,” Sam said, kissing at Dean’s face, his cheeks, his neck. Dean turned his face and about ready to ask how Sam had so much energy when they made eye contact and he _really_ looked at Sam. Bright eyes, full of unspent energy.

Holy shit. He was being a clueless asshole. “Sam, get over here.”

Sam straddled his lap, the pressure almost too much for Dean’s fading cock, but Dean could feel the energy vibrating off his little brother. “I know you’re too sensitive for anything right now, but can we—”

Sam made a jerking motion with his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Dean pushed into a sitting position and grabbed the lube. With slicked hands, he wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock, gripping him tight, savoring the heat and throb, making them both moan. Sam’s hips shifted and he started pushing in and out of Dean’s lubed grip. Dean could feel Sam tensing, could feel him searching for the edge. “C’mon, Sammy. I know you’re there.”

Sam nodded, thrusting harder, but his eyes were scrunched closed, his face marred by a tense frown.

Dean gripped tighter, quickening his stroke to Sam’s preferred pace. He kept it up for a long minute and just as Sam began to writhe and whine in frustration, Dean latched his mouth to Sam’s neck and bit down, hard. Sam’s body went whipcord tight, tense and still, his body coiled painfully as he hovered, hovered… and fell. He groaned loudly and Dean felt the heat of Sam’s spend spill over his hand and onto his stomach. Dean kissed and sucked at Sam’s neck as he worked Sam through the jerky aftershock, stroking until Sam pushed his hand away and slipped off his lap to lay beside him on the bed.

“Holy fuck,” Sam muttered as he worked to catch his breath.

Dean hummed in agreement.

After a minute or two, they settled, both snuggling as much as their body heat would let them.

“You know, you could’ve just told me your back was hurting you,” Sam said softly. “I’d have given you a massage without burning through your turn.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean this doesn’t count?”

“Massages _with_ a happy ending for both parties definitely count.”

Dean hummed but can’t bring himself to feel like it was a waste. Instead, he listened as Sam’s breath slowly evened out into sleep.

The massage was nice. The orgasm was even better. But this… this perfect moment, when they were together and completely boneless and it felt like everything was right with the world… that was when he truly relaxed.


End file.
